


Need You. Always.

by Minuialeth75



Series: Creatures of Comfort [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Stucky - Freeform, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 16:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuialeth75/pseuds/Minuialeth75
Summary: Everything was going great. Wasn’t it?





	Need You. Always.

They don’t speak about it. It’s not that they decided not to do so. They just… don’t.  
That first nap in Steve’s bed doesn’t stay a onetime thing.  
It’s not an official arrangement, it’s not even scheduled, it just… happens.

 

Truth is, Bucky doesn’t remember sleeping that well since… He has to wade through the murky depths of his memories for quite a while before giving up and deciding that it’s been a long time and leaving it at that – even if he has an impression of post-illness lazy mornings in a small rickety bed, a frail body against his.

The nights he spends after that morning nap with Steve are shit. Well, shittier. Or maybe they’re as shitty as they were before, but now he’s had a taste of real, deep, dreamless sleep, nothing else will do. But it’s not like he can barge into Steve’s quarters in the middle of the night, right?  
At least he’s no longer feeling that deep cold all the time, and Steve no longer treats him like he’s gonna disappear if he so much as touches him. So far, he only tolerates – no okay, _enjoys_ – Steve’s touch, after a shaky beginning where he had to constantly remind himself that Steve would never hurt him. It’d been a joy to realize that his fucked-up brain associated touch with pain. Not when it’s Steve now, though. Because he knows, he fucking _knows_ Steve’s touch would never hurt. 

 

It goes on for several days, and Bucky sees the way Steve glances at him. He thinks he’s bloody subtle, but the punk never was. Bucky knows he’s starting to look as terrible as he feels, but there’s not a lot he can do about it. He longs for the deep sleep he had, it seems ages ago now, but he has to make do with cat naps whenever.

 

Then one night, J.A.R.V.I.S informs him that Steve is at his quarters’ door. Bucky peeks at the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s 2 am. The fuck.  
Technically J.A.R.V.I.S didn’t wake him because he wasn’t sleeping. He was listening to some meditation music he'd downloaded.  
Instead of asking J.A.R.V.I.S to open the door, Bucky gets up to do it himself. He’s more puzzled than worried. There would be an alarm throughout the compound if something bad was happening.

Steve looks up as Bucky opens the door and… he looks fucking terrible. Bucky has a brief but intense flashback of a thinner Steve, so pale he’s almost translucent, his limp hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He blinks and the memory’s gone.  
Steve opens and closes his mouth several times before blurting “I can’t sleep.”

Bucky finally notices that Steve’s wearing his sleep clothes: comfy-looking boxers and an old tank top. The idiot’s barefoot. He wordlessly lets him enter and pads back to his bedroom, because there’s only one solution to this, isn’t it?  
He ears Steve first stopping dead in the living room, and then following in his steps.  
He had guessed Steve had sleep problems too after last time, but it was right after a difficult mission.  
There hasn’t even been a mission since. He feels… There's something churning in his gut at the idea that Steve, of all people, probably sees bad stuff too when he closes his eyes. It seems unfair that the guy who’s always fought the good fight, who was always on the right side of history, would have the same difficulties he has. But then it was Steve. He could fight like a devil but always had a gentle soul. Stubborn ass, but gentle soul.

Bucky gets back under the covers, but this time on one side of the bed instead of right in the middle. Steve has stopped at the bedroom’s entrance. Bucky pulls the duvet back on the left side and pats the bed. “Come on, get in.”  
He hopes it looks like he was actually sleeping before Steve came knocking. He also hopes he looks unaffected by the fact that he and Steve are about to sleep in the same bed again, because he’s anticipating the experience so much he feels his body starting to uncoil.

Hopefully Steve won’t notice he chose to sleep on the side closest to the door, just in case of an attack. He _knows_ there won’t be and he _knows_ Steve can defend himself now, but it’s like he can’t help himself.  
Steve doesn’t say anything but raises his eyebrows with a half-smile. He knows him too well, even this changed version of him. 

The mattress dips under Steve’s added weight as he lies down. He turns his head to look at him. “So, big spoon or small spoon?”  
“Big,” Bucky blurts without having to think about it. He wants to encircle Steve in his arms, like he used to do. Maybe it’s because Steve looks dead tired and vulnerable right now.  
Steve happily turns on his side, facing away from him.  
Bucky is paralyzed. Last time Steve had been the one to make the last move. Now it’s his turn and he… he doesn’t know. Can he actually snuggle up to Steve? Oh god, he’s going to have to put his _left_ arm around Steve. He should have chosen the other side of the bed, he should have…

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Steve says softly. He doesn’t turn but extends his left arm back, his hand opened in an invitation. Bucky takes a deep breath and clasps Steve’s hand with his metal one. Steve gently tugs until Bucky rolls almost against him, and then he continues his movement, pulling Bucky’s arm – his metal arm – around him. He keeps Bucky’s hand clasped in his.  
“Is this okay?” he whispers.  
“Y-yes.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah. I’m good.”

Bucky tries to not notice that the scent at the base of Steve’s neck hasn’t changed with the serum. How the hell does he even remember that?

He adjusts his right arm under Steve’s pillow. He’s about to ask if Steve’s comfortable when he hears a soft breathing sound and feels Steve’s hand going lax around his. He’s already asleep. Bucky has the time to be jealous for a few minutes before joining him in slumber.  
When he wakes up the next morning, Steve’s already gone.

As he’s sitting alone in his bed, Bucky has to admit that the only two nights of deep, dreamless sleep he's had in weeks were spent sharing a bed with his best friend.  
_____________________________________________________

After that night, Bucky is almost immediately back on his regimen of insomnia. Running with Steve and Sam in the morning helps clearing his mind, but he gets frayed more easily.  
There’s a bitter taste in his mouth when he realizes he’s not stable enough yet to be put on missions. He’s made a lot of progress, he feels it, but it’s not enough. Maybe it’ll never be.

 

He’s sitting in the common kitchen at 2 am, drinking warm milk. He hopes that what used to work on Steve 70 years ago might work on him. He’d put some booze in it if he knew it’d do something.  
He’s trying to forget the idea he’s had going down in the common space, but he’s not really successful. As soon as he finishes the milk, Bucky washes the mug – because he’s not a savage – and goes back upstairs. 

He stops in front of Steve’s quarters. He realizes he still hasn’t talked to Steve about the fact that he can enter his quarters without any authorization, and immediately decides it’s not a conversation to have right now.  
He’s torn between wishing Steve is peacefully asleep and wishing he’s not.  
“J.A.R.V.I.S?”  
“Yes, Sergeant?  
Bucky sighs, loudly enough that he knows J.A.R.V.I.S will hear it. “It’s Bucky.”  
He’s pretty sure Stark somehow overrode the AI’s free will about this because he lost count of the number of times he’s told J.A.R.V.I.S to address him by his first name. “If Steve isn’t sleeping, could you inform him that I’m waiting at his door?”  
“Captain Rogers is not asleep at the moment, I will inform him of your presence.” Or maybe J.A.R.V.I.S is just a pompous AI. “May I remind you that you can enter Captain Rogers’ quarters at will.”  
“I know.”

The door opens, revealing a smiling – if tired-looking – Steve.  
“Hey Buck, come on in.”  
Bucky’s frozen on the spot for a moment because it’s like Steve was waiting for him. Then he follows him inside. Steve immediately leads him to his bedroom.

“I was kinda hoping you’d show up,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Not that I hoped you wouldn’t be able to get a descent night’s sleep, but… So far I’ve been the one asking and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t… forcing you or…”  
“No, you absolutely weren’t,” Bucky is quick to reassure, because no. No.  
“Oh, okay. Good.”  
They wordlessly settle in bed in an already familiarly comforting routing, though it’s only the third time. Unless… Unless it’s familiar because they used to do this often, before.

“Can I?” Steve breaks the peaceful silence, his arm open. Bucky slots himself against him, his back to his chest. They’re both out in moments.  
_____________________________________________________

It becomes a routine of sorts. Not every night, though. They quickly discover that the peace and comfort brought by sleeping together lasts a night or two. So they no longer knock on each other’s door in the middle of the night after a bout of insomnia. They decide in whose living quarters they are both going to spend the night beforehand, go through their nightly routine, and just show up at the other’s quarters. Bucky asks J.A.R.V.I.S to grant Steve permanent access to his quarters. Steve says nothing about it either.

 

The worst is when Steve has to leave for missions. It’s not really because Bucky’s worried. Sam Wilson is always there with Steve. He’s seen Sam fighting first hand. Bucky knows for a fact that Sam’s got Steve’s six. But more importantly, he knows Sam won’t let any of Steve’s shit fly.  
In the beginning, Bucky had kept asking to go on missions to keep an eye on Steve’s shenanigans. But he’d come to rapidly realize that Sam was good with that.  
He remembers it was damn impossible when they were with the Howlies because he was the only one trying to keep Steve in check. The others were too in awe of him to do so, because they hadn’t known the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who had a lot to prove. Somehow, Sam had seen right through Steve’s bullshit right from the beginning. That’s why he digs the man.

 

No, the worst thing about Steve being away on a mission is that he has no choice but to try to sleep alone. And it doesn’t work. Because his body and his mind both know that Steve isn’t nearby _at all_.

The first time Steve goes away on a mission is hell, even if it’s only two nights. Steve doesn’t say anything when he comes back, but it seems to Bucky that he squeezes him extra hard when they both fall asleep.  
The second time, Bucky caves and does what he had wanted to do the first time Steve left, but didn’t dare to. Because that’d have been pathetic.  
Well, fuck pathetic, as long as he finally gets some sleep. It’s not as restful as it is when Steve’s actually in bed with him, but it’s still leagues better than insomnia. He supposes he manages to sleep because Steve didn’t have the time to wash his sheets before leaving, so his scent lingers there. He’s sure Steve knows he sleeps in his bed when he’s away on missions, but he has the grace to pretend he doesn’t.  
_____________________________________________________

Time goes on. The nights spent alone in bed are few and far between. In fact, these are the nights when Steve is away on missions.  
They still don’t talk about it, and now it feels like it’s too late, that if they try to talk about this, it’ll break the positive effects of their arrangement. 

Bucky doesn’t know if the others have noticed something, but he’s sure at least one other person knows something’s going on.  
One morning he oversleeps and leaves Steve’s quarters a little later than usual, though it’s still very early in the morning. That’s the odd thing about their arrangement: they’ve never woken up next to each other. Bucky tries not to think about it.  
He closes Steve’s door as quietly as he can, turns to leave and… sure enough, Wilson is in the corridor, pyjama-clad, a water bottle in his hand. He walks past him, an eyebrow raised, and that’s the end of it. He doesn’t say a word about it afterwards, doesn’t even hint at what he saw. Bucky is torn between feeling relieved because… he wouldn’t know where to begin to explain what’s going on with Steve, and feeling disappointed because maybe Sam would have had something insightful to say.  
_____________________________________________________

It all goes to shit one early morning, and really, Bucky’s not surprised. His experience is that a good thing never lasts for long.  
It’s post-mission so Steve is being his usual extra-clingy big spoon. Bucky never complains because he enjoys the full body contact. It’s comforting, okay?

He’s slowly waking up, and one bleary look at his alarm clock tells him it’s nearly 5 am. He doesn’t know what pulled him from his sleep. Steve snoring? Because Captain America does snore sometimes, despite what he might tell everyone.  
Bucky’s about to try to go back to sleep when he feels it. He blinks incredulously.  
He can feel Steve’s hard-on right against his ass. Before he can formulate any thoughts, his body decides it’s a great idea to press back against it. Steve gives a breathy sigh and the hand loosely resting on Bucky’s stomach tightens, pressing him even closer against him. It sends heat pooling in Bucky’s lower belly, and it’s been so long it takes him a beat to realize what it is. It’s the kind of sensation he didn’t think he’d ever feel again. Suddenly he wants… He wants Steve’s hand to slide lower and... What the hell is happening… Why? Why now?

His mind replays the weeks he's spent sleeping with Steve, trusting him to see him at his most vulnerable, enjoying the physical closeness, but also the warm affection coming from it, the memories from another time it all brings back, the glances they sometimes exchange… Jesus Christ. Bucky’s eyes shoot wide open in shock. He… He loves Steve. And not in a brotherly way. He… His mind flashes back through the memories he has. Fuck, he… He’s loved Stevie for far longer than the past weeks.

Suddenly, Steve is deliberately moving away, putting several inches between them, the hand on Bucky’s stomach falling lax on the mattress. It’s like the spell Bucky was under is broken.  
He feels dirty, disgusted at himself. He’s got no right being turned on by Steve’s accidental morning wood. They’re friends, Steve trusts him with protecting his sleep and here he goes, fucking lusting after him. They had a great system going, and he had to go and taint it.

He’s unable to find sleep again and after a while, Steve gets up. He pauses besides the bed, and then Bucky hears his footsteps moving away, then his door opening and closing.  
He rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. Shit.

 

Steve doesn’t stop until he’s in his own quarters. Then he sits heavily on his untouched bed.

He’s fucked up. Feeling Bucky tensing up in is arms had been like being punched. He should have put a stop to them sharing the same bed as soon as his body had started reacting to Bucky’s closeness, because he’d known that what happened this morning would eventually occur. But he didn’t, because it was obvious that Bucky slept so much better when he wasn’t alone. He’d also not wanted to give up what he had built with Bucky, because it had done a world of good to him too.  
The solution had been simple: since he always woke up before Bucky, he just left and Bucky was none the wiser. Until this morning.

Steve runs a heavy hand on his face. Bucky didn’t deserve this. Bucky deserved someone who’d be able to offer the comfort of human touch without having a goddamn boner.  
He’d almost apologized to him for being a failure a few minutes ago. Bucky’s mind wasn’t fully healed, he couldn’t foist his feelings on him. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Bucky think he had offered his touch with an ulterior motive.  
It’d have been simpler if he didn’t love Bucky so, so much.  
He’d have to follow Bucky’s lead from now on.  
For the first time since Bucky was here, he wasn’t impatient to see him later. He felt dread.  
_____________________________________________________

“Hey Steve, I think I’ll be able to sleep alone tonight,” Bucky blurts as they both are stretching after their run a couple of hours later. Sam is a little farther away, stretching and phoning at the same time.  
He’d hoped he’d sound more collected, but at least he’d gotten the words out.  
“Yeah? You sure?” comes Steve’s slightly delayed answer, and Bucky doesn’t look up from his stretching routine.  
“Yeah. I’m feeling so much better lately, I think it’d be beneficial if I tried to sleep alone every night, you now?”  
And fuck if that’s not one of the hardest things Bucky has ever had to say. But it’s for the best, right? He can’t take advantage of Steve’s friendship like that. Wouldn’t be right.  
“Oh. Okay.” Steve’s voice is weird, and when Bucky finally dares looking at him, he immediately regrets it.  
Steve has a shit poker face, always has. Guy’s a shit liar because of that. Right now, Steve’s face is doing this thing where Steve thinks it looks neutral but in fact it doesn’t. Steve looks… devastated. There’s no other word for it. Apparently, Bucky’s hindbrain _hates_ when Steve has this look because for one second, he’s about to say “Forget it” but Sam's coming back towards them. Bucky acts like a fucking coward, says “I need to get back” and marches back to the compound, leaving Steve standing there.  
If his vision gets a bit blurry, it’s probably because of the rain-drops that have started falling.  
_____________________________________________________

Bucky doesn’t sleep that night, and the one after that, but that’s on him, isn’t it? He had to go and spoil a good thing. Steve always slept better than he did, so at least he’s the only one affected.

 

But after two days, Bucky has to recognize that something’s wrong.

He doesn’t really notice at first, but after half a day, he feels weird in his own skin. He knows that feeling, he remembers that feeling. At the end of the day, the feeling’s still there.

When Bucky searches in his memories of the day for a reason, he realizes that, despite talking to him like usual, Steve hasn’t touched him once. He’s kept his distance.  
Bucky hopefully chalks it up to a coincidence. But he’s more attentive the day after, and it becomes obvious that Steve isn’t touching him on purpose. It fucking hurts. If it was someone else, Bucky would think he was being punished for saying he no longer needed them to share a bed. But Steve’s not like that. Never was.

The thing is, Steve doesn’t look like he’s happy about what he’s doing – or not doing, in that case. Bucky catches him reaching for him but aborting his movement at the last moment.  
He’d like to understand what the hell’s going on but truth is, he’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid to lose more than he already has.

 

Bucky’s late for his run with Steve and Sam on the third day and he spots them standing almost by the small wood’s edge, most likely waiting for him. He stops in his tracks when he realizes that Steve is pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam pats his shoulder in a comforting gesture and when Steve looks up, Bucky can see that he looks upset. He backtracks as fast as he can before they can see him, and then walks towards them again, this time shouting “Sorry I’m late!”.  
Their morning run is like usual, except Steve looks exhausted, and it seems to Bucky that he looks at him oddly.

 

Bucky falls asleep that night, probably moments after thinking he _was_ going to get up and go to Steve’s quarters if he wasn’t asleep in 5 minutes.  
Because he can’t, he just can’t. It’s not only because he knows he can’t go to Steve anymore – and he has himself to thank for that – it’s also because the lack of Steve’s touch over the last 3 days makes him feel unmoored. His therapist, if he was still seeing her, would have something to say about too much dependency on one person, but it was _Steve_ , so it was different. Looking back, as best as he can remember, they’d always been codependent anyway. These days it was probably exacerbated by the fact that they were just about the only two persons in the world who could understand each other. No one else could ever fully relate. Sometimes they only had to look at each other and they _knew_ what the other was thinking.

 

Bucky is gently shaken awake some time after. For a second, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know where he is, when he is. It’s like he’s been pulled from a void, but he knows better than try to look inward and remember where he was and what he was seeing. All he knows is that his throat feels raw. That means he was probably shouting moments ago. His body instinctively struggles against the pull of wakefulness, trashing.

“Shhh, shhhh. I got you, Buck.”  
Steve. He instinctively lurches towards the source of the voice. Strong arms envelop him, and his hands cling to a solid back, his face buried in Steve’s tee-shirt-clad chest.  
“You’re okay, it’s okay,” Steve soothes, gently cradling his head. Bucky breathes in big gulps of Steve’s scent while he can. It’s more calming than any drug.  
“J.A.R.V.I.S warned me you were having a nightmare, and I thought I’d wake you. I hope you don’t mind.”  
“If J.A.R.V.I.S told you, it must have been really bad.” Bucky’s hoarse voice is muffled by Steve’s chest. He doesn’t want to look at him right now.  
“It… it was.” Steve’s hand, which has slid down to Bucky’s nape, tightens protectively. “Buck, tell me I can stay with you tonight.”  
Bucky looks up in surprise. Steve looks wrecked.  
He should say no. He promised himself… But in this moment it seems that Steve’s the only one who can keep the nightmare from returning. He knows it’s not true, of course. Both he and Steve have had nightmares even when sleeping together, but one of them has always quickly and gently woken the other up before it got too bad. That’s why Bucky hasn’t had a nightmare this bad in weeks.

Bucky nods. “Okay, yeah.”

Steve hugs him one last time before all but diving under the covers on the other side of the bed.  
“Big spoon or little spoon?” Steve asks as usual, an expression Bucky can’t decipher on his face.  
Bucky briefly thinks about that humiliating morning 3 days ago. It’s not really a choice.  
“Er, big spoon?”  
“Great! I mean, good idea,” Steve says, immediately turning on his side, facing the wall.

Bucky blissfully lies down right against Steve, his right arm sliding under Steve’s pillow. He pauses when he realizes that he’s going to encircle Steve with his left one. Usually he tries to make sure it’s the other arm.  
Steve takes his left hand in his and brings his palm flat against his ribcage. Where he can feel Steve’s heart beating against his hand. Oh. He lightly presses his palm on Steve’s chest and resists the temptation to nuzzle Steve’s vulnerable nape. That’d be… beyond friendship, and would give Steve suspicions. He lays his head as close as he can to Steve’s instead.

 

Bucky wakes up an undetermined time later. He doesn’t know why, and he’s too bewildered by the fact that he managed to find sleep again to really wonder for long.  
He’s warm and… safe. All the tension he felt earlier has vanished and his body feels boneless, Steve’s scent surrounding him. Steve’s… scent… His eyes pop open. His nose is buried in Steve’s nape. Hell, his whole face is. And his body… he’s practically glued to Steve, clinging like an octopus. He can’t even tell exactly where his legs are and where are Steve’s. Suddenly Bucky becomes very aware, in a horrifying way, of the still unfamiliar sensation in his lower body, and he realizes he’s sporting a hard-on of epic proportions. Because apparently this is what being plastered to Steve does to his body.  
Steve. Steve can’t feel this. He jerks back. Or tries to. Steve has a strong hold on his left forearm, preventing him from fully moving away.

“Buck, it’s okay,” Steve says.  
“No, it’s not, please let me go, please,” Bucky begs, an edge of panic in his voice.

Steve immediately releases him, and Bucky nearly leaps off the bed, ending with his back against the wall in his haste of getting as far from Steve as possible.  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he keeps repeating like a mantra.

Steve turns the light on and jumps out of the bed too, looking shocked and worried.  
“Hey Buck, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. It’s a natural reaction.” He slowly gets closer to Bucky like he’d do with a spooked animal, until he’s standing right in front of him.  
“No, it’s not… it’s not… like that. It’s only when you’re here, with me.”  
Steve gapes. “Oh.”  
“That’s why…” “Is that why you stopped sleeping with me?” they say at the same time.  
Bucky nods shakily. “It wasn’t… it was way beyond the comfort you were willing to offer, so I…”  
There’s a tinge of pink on Steve’s cheeks. “You’re not the only one… to…”  
“You don’t und… It’s not the same.” Steve’s eyebrows raise. “Look, can we forget this?”  
“You panicked, Buck. You vaulted off the bed. We both know by now that we sleep better if we’re in the same bed. We _have_ to talk about what happened.”

Bucky drags both hands down his face, sighing. He doesn’t fucking want to do this. If he says nothing, Steve will no longer sleep with him. But if he confesses what’s happening to him, Steve won’t want to share a bed with him anyway. At least he’ll get to keep Steve’s friendship if he says nothing. He’s pretty sure he can’t survive without it. He opens his mouth, but Steve beats him to it.  
“I get aroused too when I’m against you,” he blurts.  
For a disturbing instant, Bucky’s mind becomes blank. Then he frowns, struggling to understand Steve’s meaning.

“You ever wondered why I was always up before you in the morning?” Steve asks.  
Bucky nods. “Yeah. I always feel lonely when you’re not…” He stops when he realizes what he almost said, his face heating up. He's too comfortable with Steve, always has been, and even more now. It makes hiding things from him really difficult.

An odd expression comes over Steve’s face, and Bucky recognizes the look he’s caught many times before and wondered about.  
“Happens only when I sleep with you, too. But I didn’t want you to feel… how I reacted to you.” Bucky jerks. “You didn’t ask for this. I knew that you slept leagues better when I was with you and I didn’t want you to feel you had to… endure this for the benefit of a good night’s sleep. I knew I had fucked up when you said you wanted to sleep alone. I could see after that you weren’t sleeping well, but I couldn’t force you to…” Steve’s tone gets desperate.  
“Hey Steve… Stevie…” Bucky unglues himself from the wall and gets so close to Steve that the latter has no choice but to look at him. “That’s not why I tried to sleep without you.” Steve’s surprised eyes catches his. “I realized… I felt… Shit I’m so fucking bad at this…” Bucky sees Steve’s about to say something. “No please, let me… Let me finish?” Steve nods shakily, his body – unconsciously? – swaying closer. “You made me realize I needed touch, and you offered yours, and the comfort of sharing a bed with you, like we used to do. But the more… the more we did this, the more…”  
“Buck…”  
“I didn’t even know my body could still…do this. I felt… I felt you. Against me. And… Fuck, Steve, I didn’t even recognize what it was at first. You… I wanted you to…” Bucky realizes he’s gonna spill everything. Everything that’s in his heart, right now. He can’t hide this part of himself from Steve. He thinks he recognizes that odd look on Steve’s face, now. It springs hope in his chest. God, let him have this. “You’ve always been there for me. Always.”  
“Buck, I don’t… It’s you who’s always been there…”  
“You still don’t get it, do you?” 

Bucky, as scared as he can remember ever being, gently cradles Steve’s face in his hands. He tries to not notice they’re shaking. “I need you, Stevie. Always. Always.”  
He only has a few inches before his lips make contact with Steve’s. The last thing he sees before closing his eyes is Steve’s shining blue ones.

Kissing Steve is like sharing a bed with him at first: the familiar comfort of a touch, of a solid presence that is uniquely _Steve_. Steve is frozen in place for a beat but Bucky doesn’t have the time to worry that he read him wrong because he puts both his hands on Bucky’s and his lips answer Bucky’s query and their mouths are rubbing and sliding together and then there’s tongue, Steve’s tongue in his mouth and it’s dizzying and it’s fire and…. more… and someone’s moaning and he realizes it’s him. He’s so startled he breaks the kiss. Steve presses their foreheads together, breathing heavily. Smiling. 

“The serum’s shit, I think my asthma’s coming back,” Steve says. Bucky huffs a laugh against his lips.  
“Nah, I think it’s just my top notch kissing technique."  
“Pretty sure I was the one kissing you, pal.”  
“Details.”

Steve takes Bucky’s hands in his and brings both of them to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Bucky thinks it’s unfair that the tenderness in the gesture makes him as weak as the kiss did.

“Wanna come back to bed?” Steve asks, holding Bucky’s hands, gently tugging on them.  
“Steve, I… I’m not ready for…” He wishes he was. But while his body seems to be on board with more contact with Steve’s, the idea of sex right now isn’t… right. Too soon.  
Steve gapes. “Oh god no, Buck. I wasn’t suggesting sex.” Steve’s face colors. “It’s just that it’s 4 am, and I don’t know about you, but I need a bit more sleep.”  
“Oh.” Well, he feels a bit dumb, now.  
Steve tugs on Bucky’s hands again and this time Bucky lets himself being brought closer to him, Steve’s warmth like a magnet.  
“Hey… It’s not like I don’t want anything… more. I do. I really do. I need you too, Buck. Always. You know that, right?”  
Bucky squeezes Steve’s fingers. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” And he really does. He can see it written on Steve’s face. He wonders how he didn’t see it before.

 

They stumble back into bed, even more at ease now. It’s like something’s clicked into place. Instead of spooning, they end up in each other’s arms, chest to chest, legs tangled.

“You being the taller one is still weird,” Bucky says into Steve’s collarbone.  
“Come on, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this,” Steve quips back, tightening his hold on Bucky and brushing his lips against his temple.  
“You’re right, I really enjoy not having to pull your scrawny ass out of back alley fights anymore.”  
“My ass’s not scrawny,” Steve mutters, his speech a bit slurred by oncoming sleep.  
“You’re right it’s not, it’s a fine ass.”  
“So you’ve been looking.”  
“You bet I have.” Bucky buries his nose into Steve’s neck.  
“Pervert.”  
“You’re the one with your hand on my ass, punk.”  
“Sorr…”  
“Don’t you _dare_ move it. S’ okay. Sleep.”

Bucky feels Steve burying his nose in his hair. His breathing evens out after a few moments. Bucky lets himself enjoy Steve’s heartbeat against him.  
Right before surrendering to sleep, he thinks he briefly feels the springs of the small old bed they used to share in Brooklyn digging into his side, and hears the city noises from the street a few feet below.

Memories are a strange thing.


End file.
